


Funeral Take 2

by Dinohunter5904



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mild Gore, it's not much but y'all know how owen dies, it's open casket but not described all that much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 11:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18827395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinohunter5904/pseuds/Dinohunter5904
Summary: “It’s weird, but I’m actually doing- well, I don’t wanna saybetterbecause it’s not like I feel good, mostly just like I want to throw up, but it’s not as hopeless as last time, I guess. Well, hopeless isn’t right either. Just, you get my point. He, he wasn’t the Owen we knew and- he wasn’t the man we knew and loved, you know? When we were standing on those stairs he said something about how a part of him had died that night I left him in that building and honestly, I believe him. So, I guess it’s less like I got him killed and more like I’m finally letting him go.” He wipes at his eyes and lets himself breathe for a second.





	Funeral Take 2

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno if y'all have noticed, but I suck at summaries lmao. I just kinda started impulse writing this a couple days ago so, sorry if it's not all that great.

To bury Owen, they actually ended up digging up the empty casket they had buried for him the first time around. They already had the headstone carved and the casket had been picked out by Owen's sister, and spies are nothing if not practical. The first time around, Curt hadn't even attended. He'd been too distraught, already too far into a bottle to think about trying to face a family that Owen hadn't even spoken to or about in years. Couldn't handle the idea of trying to face people who were only there by obligation of blood relation and try to downplay what they'd been, what Owen meant to Curt. 

This time, Curt actually came and found a smaller crowd than he'd expected. None of the biological relatives that he'd expected, not even any MI6 or CIA members. There wasn't anything extravagant either, just an open casket next to an open grave and a total of four other people.

Cynthia, Susan, Barb, and Tatiana; all the people who were involved with or knew about Owen’s second time through the wringer. One out of the four knew about him and Owen. Better than nothing.

Curt sidled up to Tatiana. “You know,” she said. “I’m not entirely sure why I’m here; _you_ barely even know me, let alone him.”

“I got to know you well enough working with you that week.” He doesn’t say that he wouldn’t be able to be there without someone who _knew_. “Besides, I think Cynthia’s taken a liking to you.”

She shrugged. “I guess she likes when agents can do their jobs.” A little close to home, but it’s playful ribbing. He can roll with this.

“Apparently they have to be foreign so she can’t get used to it, too.” Nope, that’s worse. Maybe he can’t do this. 

Tati looks at him weird. “Are you sure you’re alright enough to be here, Curt?”

He shifts to try and stand straighter, seem more okay. “Yeah, I gotta be. I’m not missing this again.”

Cynthia walks over, Susan by her side, and put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got a mission for you that I can’t push back more than a week. I expect to see you in my office by then.” _‘I’m giving you a week off to process’_ is heard loud and clear. 

Curt smiles. “Thanks, Cynthia.”

Cynthia nods and walks off. Curt’s too busy watching Cynthia light up another cigarette to notice Susan coming up to give him a hug. Curt stiffens up, but relaxes enough to pat him on the back a couple of times before pulling away. He waves goodbye to the duo as Susan pulls open the car door for Cynthia and they drive off.

“And then there were three.” Tatiana says. 

Barb looks up from the coffin and wipes at her eyes while walking over. “I can go, too, if you want. I know how hard you took his death the first time, so I understand if you need some time alone with him.”

“It’s weird, but I’m actually doing- well, I don’t wanna say _better_ because it’s not like I feel good, mostly just like I want to throw up, but it’s not as hopeless as last time, I guess. Well, hopeless isn’t right either. Just, you get my point. He, he wasn’t the Owen we knew and- he wasn’t the man we knew and loved, you know? When we were standing on those stairs he said something about how a part of him had died that night I left him in that building and honestly, I believe him. So, I guess it’s less like I got him killed and more like I’m finally letting him go.” He wipes at his eyes and lets himself breathe for a second. That came out of nowhere, but it felt true enough. Maybe he’d have to try taking Owen’s advice and take a shot at that whole “moving on” thing. 

“Well, that’s good.” Barb stands and looks uncomfortable before shooting in for a hug too quick for Curt to register before it’s over. “I guess I’ll, uh, see you in a week. Bye, Curt.”

Curt blinks. “Uh, yeah. See you, Barb.”

Barb smiles lightly and waves as she starts backing away. “See you too, Tatiana.” Tatiana waves back and Barb turns to speed-walk to her car, occasionally breaking out into a jog until she gets there. 

“You know, you should tell her. About you.”

“Technically, I don’t have to.”

Tatiana gave him a look.

Curt sighed. “Yeah, okay. Just, later.”

They stood side by side approximately ten feet away from the coffin. Tatiana waited and Curt stalled. “So, what are you going to do after this?”

She humoured him. “Probably go visit my family, try to get them set up somewhere I can keep an eye of them and out of harm’s way. We have a lot of catching up to do. You?”

“I dunno, probably go back to the agency, see where to go from there.”

Silence again. “You can leave whenever you want, but I think the pallbearers are getting impatient. If you want to look at his body, you should do it now.”

He sighed. “Yeah, okay.”

The bullet hole in his head wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, hell it wasn’t the first hole like it that he’d put in another man’s head, but somehow it was just as bad as seeing his own blood. It made him sick, knowing that he'd done that to Owen. Though, there was also a sort of resignation to it. As if this had been a long time coming. There wasn't a visible tremor to his hands as he reached out to touch him, but he could feel it. 

Owen had always run slightly cold, but this was a whole other level. His hands were stiff and freezing from the cool English air, but unsettlingly cooler than what they would be if there was still hot blood coursing through his veins instead of gallons of chemicals.

A shuddering breath as he takes his hand away. “Hey, Tati?” He rests his hands on the side of the coffin. 

“Yes, Curt?”

“...I don’t know if I made the right choice.”

“How so?”

“Shooting Owen.”

“Ah.” She walks over to stand beside him. “I can’t say I’ve ever had this situation happen to me, so I can’t give you advice from personal experience, but I think you did what you thought was best. He wasn’t the man he used to be and was actively working to get rid of the world’s privacy. As spies, it’s our natural response to be opposed to that. I can’t tell you if what you did was right or not because I don’t know either; the meaning of ‘right’ tends to get blurred in our line of work. I think the important part is learning to live with it.”

He was still staring at Owen, but he flicked a smile her way. “I’m not sure if that was supposed to make me feel better or make me question my life choices.”

“Both work. Besides, you’re smiling.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He leaned back and patted the sides of the coffin for a second and debated, before reaching up and closing the lid.


End file.
